


To The Wolves

by Bearixt



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Snacks & Snack Food, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25277521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bearixt/pseuds/Bearixt
Summary: “Not hungry, my ass. You were gonna make food for yourself before I hijacked it.” Itaru brings up one of the wraps. “Here.”“I’m really not. I just wanted to take a break, get some fresh air. I think I got something better.” He leans forward and bites at the wrap, grin going wider at the surprised look on Itaru’s face.-A3! Rare Pairs Week 2020: Day 3 —One’s strength| One’s fear
Relationships: Chigasaki Itaru/Fushimi Omi
Comments: 21
Kudos: 44
Collections: A3! Rare Pairs Week 2020





	To The Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> I’d love to write something for each day, but I’m a slow writer, so here’s my only contribution to this week… 🙈
> 
> Thanks to Nikki for the beta! Quick thanks to Lu for helping me with food ideas, too! <3
> 
> Omi/Itaru is not a common tag yet, apparently. Let’s fix that. 📷🎮

Writing papers has never been Omi’s strongest suit, and it’s more evident now that he has been staring at a blank document in his laptop for the past two hours. He’s not making any progress, and he’s getting quite irritated.

Better take a break before he gives in to the urge to hurl his laptop at the wall.

Sighing, he stands up and stretches a bit before he steps out of the room, just in time to see Itaru leave his own as well.

“Itaru-san,” Omi greets.

The older man looks up from his phone and nods at him. “Don’t you have Saturday classes?” he asks, tipping his head to the direction of the lounge.

“Yep, though our prof cancelled our class today,” Omi replies as he falls into step next to him and they cross the courtyard. “How about you, Itaru-san?”

“Just taking a short break. I can only carry people for so long before I have to recharge my irl LP.”

Omi doesn’t understand anything from the second sentence. Still, “I’m taking a break, too. I can prepare some food.”

“Nice. That would be appreciated.”

It’s surprisingly quiet in the lounge when they arrive, but he thinks some of them went out for karaoke. He’s at least expecting Izumi, but a quick check of the fridge and cabinets tells him that she’s probably out to buy groceries.

 _Hmm. Prosciutto slices, Honeycrisp apples, arugula leaves…_ Yep, he can make do with this.

Omi prepares the ingredients, cutting the prosciutto slices lengthwise into strips and the apples into half-inch thick wedges. He puts two arugula leaves on top of an apple slice, about to wrap the prosciutto around it when he remembers the leftover white cheddar cheese from this morning’s macaroni. _Lucky!_

After finding the block in the fridge, he slices it into half-inch pieces and positions them on top of the leaves. Finally, he wraps the prosciutto around each slice, placing both ends under the apple.

When he’s finished, he arranges them on a plate and brings it to the table. “Here are some prosciutto-wrapped apples.”

Itaru takes his eyes off his phone—does he ever rest his eyes?—to look at the food and raises a brow.

“That looks easy to do, but your presentation is really top-notch.”

“Haha, thanks. It’s not as high in protein like I wanted, but it’s the best I can do with what’s available.” He takes a seat on the chair opposite of Itaru. “You _do_ need to add more fruits in your diet.”

Itaru hums, already back on his phone as he blindly reaches for one of the wraps. Omi doesn’t eat yet, waiting for the other’s reaction.

Itaru’s eyes widen, and Omi has to stop himself from laughing out loud. He looks at the plate first before he shifts his attention to Omi, narrowing his eyes when Omi only grins in response.

“What kind of potion did you add to this?”

“I’m not sure about any potions…? I only had four ingredients to work with though.”

“Damn,” Itaru mumbles. “Having someone with max stats in cooking is really great.” He locks his phone and places it on the table. Resting his chin on his left fist, Itaru uses his right hand to grab a wrap. And another. And another.

Omi mirrors him and rests his chin on his palm, quietly observing Itaru wolf down the dish as different emotions blossom in his chest. One of them he immediately recognizes as _pride,_ but the others, he doesn’t want to name yet.

The plate is almost empty when Itaru pauses, finally realizing that he’s the only one eating. “Oops. Sorry. Too good that I couldn’t resist.”

“Nah.” Omi lightly shakes his head. “I wasn’t really hungry anyway. You can finish them.”

“Not hungry, my ass. You were gonna make food for yourself before I hijacked it.” Itaru brings up one of the wraps. “Here.”

“I’m really not. I just wanted to take a break, get some fresh air. I think I got something better.” He leans forward and bites at the wrap, grin going wider at the surprised look on Itaru’s face.

They have been doing this dance lately, something that Omi would’ve called _flirting_ if he doesn’t know better. A few casual teasing here and there, Itaru more often than not using game-related terms that Omi barely understands.

Omi enjoys it. Looks forward to it, even.

This is the first time either of them attempted to do anything more than the light-hearted remarks though. Yet again, Omi waits for the reaction.

Itaru mutters something under his breath, and Omi only catches the familiar words “flags” and “rank up” before he stands up and grabs his phone. Mumbling his thanks, Itaru starts walking toward the door.

“Wait, Itaru-san! You haven’t had any drinks yet.”

“It’s fine,” Itaru replies without looking back at him. “I still have water in my room.”

Omi grabs another wrap and smiles. His eyes might’ve just been playing tricks on him, but he thinks he saw Itaru’s cheeks flush. That wasn’t a bad reaction, was it?

* * *

Later that night, Omi balances a plate on one hand and uses the other to knock on Itaru’s door. After hearing an _it’s open!,_ he enters the room.

Itaru’s too focused on his game, so Omi just sets the plate down on the empty space near the keyboard. It’s where he puts his food anyway, if Omi remembers correctly.

Omi takes a step back, already about to walk back out when Itaru thanks him and absently grabs at the plate.

 _Hmm._ Savory madeleines might not be a good idea for gaming food. Crumbs can fall on the keyboard, and it can be quite messy to the fingers, too. He mentally takes note of it for next time.

“Yeah! Take that, sucker!”

Omi blinks as Itaru slumps on his seat, swiveling his chair around with a wide grin on his face. He grabs another piece of madeleine, licking the parmesan cheese off his fingers when he’s finished.

He looks up at Omi. “Oh. You’re still here.”

Omi lifts his gaze so that he’s staring at Itaru’s eyes and not his fingers. He clears his throat. “I also made you a mango smoothie. It’s on the table.”

“Mhmm. Thanks.”

“Well.” Omi scratches his scar. “Just tell me if you want any more midnight snacks. I’ll also be up all night since I’m doing my term paper.”

Itaru makes a face at him, effectively erasing the dread that settled in Omi’s stomach right after he had mentioned his paper. “I don’t miss those. I’d offer my help, but it won’t actually be helpful so nvm.”

“I appreciate the thought though. Thanks,” is what Omi says in reply, because he doesn’t think that _I can think of other ways you can help me out in_ is an appropriate response.

Not yet, anyway.

* * *

Omi finds himself knocking on Itaru’s door again on Sunday night. Just like the night before, after he gets permission to come in, he goes straight to Itaru’s PC and places the two bowls beside his keyboard.

Itaru’s eyes flicker to them briefly before he focuses back on his PC, gunning down a pack of… zombie wolves? that are crowding his character. “What’s for tonight, chef?” he asks.

“Mixed nuts and dried fruits. They should be less messy and easier to grab with one hand, right?”

“Wow, how thoughtful.”

“The other bowl’s for falafel,” Omi adds. “Take note of the toothpicks.” That should make sure his fingers are not greasy.

Itaru looks at him and raises a brow, and Omi looks at his PC in return. _Stage Cleared_ , it says, which would explain why Itaru’s actually willing to look at him this time.

“How are you an actual person?” Itaru asks.

Omi blinks. “Eh?”

“You can’t have max stats in STR, VIT, and DEX— _and_ even CHR just like that. Not to mention, Talent in Home Ec and Cooking? Too OP.”

What are those letters? But it is a compliment, right? “Uh, thanks?”

“Is there anything that you can’t do?”

“Err, my term paper, for one.”

Itaru snorts. “Still not finished with that? GLHF. And thanks again,” he says before he goes back to his PC, clicking the _YES_ button under the _Continue to Next Stage?_ on screen.

Just like the night before, Omi takes a step back, but he has no intention of leaving the room immediately. He needs to observe the results of his choices and take notes for future references, after all.

Of course, Omi has already seen Itaru in his “off mode” too many times. He has witnessed several aggressive games in the lounge, but this a rare occasion where he’s watching him in his home court, so to speak. Alone, too; he isn’t playing with Banri this time.

Itaru curses and thumps his mouse down before picking up a piece of falafel, aggressively biting and removing it from the toothpick. He mutters strings of curses while pointedly chewing, making Omi focus on his mouth, to the side of his face, to his hair…

Omi already knows that Itaru is very… charming. His work appearance has definitely captured a lot of hearts, but he’s thankful for the chance to see him like this. What would it feel like to run his fingers through his hair? What would it be like to tug on—

Ah, better not go there.

He leaves the room and enters his and Taichi’s, noting that the other is already on his bed, but there’s light coming from under the blanket. He’s probably still on his phone.

Omi goes to his opened laptop and stares at the screen. He’s… halfway done now, if he’s optimistic about it.

* * *

Five days pass by quickly, and it’s Saturday night again. Which means that Omi only has a day left until his term paper deadline.

After preparing tonight’s snacks, he checks the clock. 11:47 PM. That’s… still early? It’s Sunday tomorrow anyway.

He grabs the platter and goes to Itaru’s room. The usual: knock, _come in_ , place the platter on the usual area. He goes back to the kitchen to pick up two glasses, and when he comes back to the room, Itaru is seated on his gaming chair, fiddling with his phone. He looks up when Omi arrives and raises a brow, eyeing the two glasses he is holding.

“You’re doing an all-nighter?” Itaru asks as Omi puts one of the glasses on the table.

“Yeah. Still the same term paper.” Omi grins sheepishly. “Deadline on Monday. This is coffee banana smoothie, by the way.”

“Why don’t you do it here?” Itaru pauses, as if mulling over his offer, then waves a hand. “Ah, nevermind. I’m loud.”

Omi laughs as he bites back the urge to ask _how loud_ and _can I hear a demo_. “No, it’s fine. A change in environment might be what I need. Is it ok for _you_ though, since I’ll be imposing here?”

“There’s too much food on that platter. What are those anyway?”

“Fish and chips, fries. Cheese curds. Pizza poppers.”

“Neat, but that’s a lot for one person. Just stay. I’ll try to tone it down for you.”

Omi relents and goes back to his room to grab his laptop. When he comes back, he’s surprised that the PC is turned off, and Itaru is on the couch, playing on his phone.

“You’re not playing on your PC?” Omi asks as he sits down on the floor, setting up his laptop on the table.

“It’s getting boring anyway,” Itaru says, shrugging. “Don’t mind me. Focus on your work. Like I said, doubt I can help, but let me know if you need anything.”

A few minutes later, Omi realizes that the room is quiet aside from the _click-clack_ of his keyboard, making him feel irrationally giddy. Itaru has muted his phone for him, and he knows he usually doesn’t, not even during practices. _I need to hear my notifications and alarms_ , he says.

Omi can’t help but steal glances every now and then, rewarded with different expressions on Itaru’s face every time. Sometimes, he will furrow his brows. Other times, he will roll his eyes and huff. 

One of Omi’s favorites is when he grins wolfishly, eyes glinting as he taps at his phone with muted curses once in a while. It makes Omi’s fingers twitch—he's itching for his camera, wishing that he can immortalize the moment.

Maybe it’s the excitement caused by the close proximity with the undoubtedly gorgeous man, maybe it’s something else entirely, but Omi finally overcomes whatever’s holding him back and proceeds to write his paper. Afraid of losing his momentum, he doesn’t take his eyes off his screen, fingers only leaving the keyboard when he’s reaching for food or his drink.

When he types the period of his concluding paragraph, he exhales. _Finally_ , he’s done. He still has to proofread and double check his citations tomorrow (later?), but he has a complete paper now.

Noticing his almost empty glass, he finishes his drink before stretching his arms upward. He turns around.

“Itaru-san, thank you for— ah.”

Omi grins. And now he’s rewarded with Itaru’s sleeping face, too.

Sleeping upright on the couch can’t be that comfortable, though. Omi stands up and approaches him, nudging him lightly. “Itaru-san?”

Itaru opens one of his eyes, looks up at him, and closes it again, groaning before shifting positions. He’s leaning sideways on the backrest now, but it still doesn’t really look comfortable.

“Itaru-san,” Omi calls again. “You should sleep in your bed.”

He tries a bit more times, but Itaru just keeps on groaning in reply, seemingly getting more irritated every time. If it was Taichi, he would’ve just picked him up and put him on the bed himself, but to carry an adult…

Omi scratches his cheek. That might be a little awkward.

He walks toward Itaru’s bed, grabbing the blanket and placing it on Itaru’s sleeping figure instead. A smile easily forms on his face when Itaru snuggles under the blanket. _A gorgeous adult that can be pretty cute._

After washing the glasses and platter in the kitchen, Omi returns to grab his laptop, but a yawn leaves him the moment he sets foot in Itaru’s room. He didn’t even notice that he had been typing for two hours straight.

 _Okay, maybe it looks comfortable,_ he says to himself, eyeing the empty space on the couch. He doesn’t have the energy to go back to his room, and just the thought of climbing up his bed drains him.

He sits on the couch and leans his head back, taking a glance at Itaru who’s still soundly asleep.

_Just a few minutes…_

* * *

When Omi wakes up feeling energized, he immediately knows that he didn’t sleep for _just a few minutes,_ and he’s overly aware of the unfamiliar room he’s in.

(He’s also overly aware of his aching back.)

He looks at his side, greeted by Itaru’s sleeping face. This time, Omi doesn’t—couldn’t—hold himself back from reaching a hand out to brush his hair.

Itaru stirs. Omi freezes. Itaru continues to sleep, and Omi exhales in relief.

He pulls his hand back, deciding that he’s content with staring for now. He looks at Itaru’s hair, to the blond tips falling over one side of his face, to noticing how long his eyelashes are for the first time. 

It’s easy to be drawn in his eyes, a color so unique that seems to exist just for him, that it is also fairly easy to ignore everything else when the gaze is directed at you.

Omi’s fingers twitch again. Maybe he can ask Itaru to model for him next time under the guise of a school project.

He gets up and goes to the kitchen. It’s just five in the morning, too early to prepare breakfast for the students who are likely sleeping in. He cooks the lumpiang shanghai he prepared the night before instead, leaving a few on the table and placing a cover over it, knowing that some of the early risers will get to the kitchen sooner or later.

He brings a plate to Itaru’s room, pausing a bit when he notices that the other’s awake—and already on his phone, again—before going straight to the table to place the plate down.

“Ah, Omi,” Itaru starts, but Omi raises a hand to stop him.

“Wait. I need to get our drinks.”

In a flash, he’s back in the room, holding two mugs of hot coffee, offering one of them to Itaru before sitting on the couch.

“Sorry, I fell asleep. This you?” Itaru nods toward the blanket on his lap.

“Ah, yeah. You wouldn’t wake up, so…” Omi trails off, laughing sheepishly. “I actually fell asleep here, too.”

“But you still woke up early and even prepared all this.” Itaru takes a sip from his mug. “A perfect cup of coffee, too. What a dream guy.”

 _If only._ “Haha, thanks?”

Omi grabs a piece of shanghai, and since Itaru is already busy on his phone, he also brings the plate up for him.

“For all your praise though, Itaru-san, you haven’t actually tried this yet.”

Itaru looks at him with a raised brow, sets his mug down on the table, and leans closer to… take a bite from the roll he’s holding in between his thumb and index fingers.

Omi blinks.

Itaru grins at him, using his thumb to brush the corner of his lips. “Yep. As expected. Too good that I couldn’t resist.”

He’s not imagining it, right? It was not necessary to lick his lips while saying that and looking straight at Omi, right?

And Itaru’s back on his phone, casually asking him about his paper, like the past few seconds did not happen at all.

It was not just his imagination, right? _Right?_

“I finished it before I went to sleep,” Omi replies anyway, because it would be impolite of him not to, even though Itaru _is_ the rude one here.

“GG ~”

Itaru tosses his phone on the space between them and eats another roll before he stands up and walks to his cabinet, grabbing a towel.

“You can stay or not, leave that plate or not, do what you wanna. I’ll take a shower first. I didn’t even brush my teeth yesterday. Gross.”

So did Omi, but he’d rather not think about that now. “Uh, okay.”

“Seriously though. Thanks for all the elixirs and buffs. IDK how to pay you back.”

Omi waves a hand. “You don’t need to—”

“You didn’t even need my help in your paper, so…” Itaru cups his chin. “Camera equipment? Ingredients? Or how about…” He flutters his eyelashes, voice dropping as he continues, “… my body?”

Omi stares at Itaru. Itaru stares back at him.

An awkward silence hangs over them for what feels like forever until Itaru looks away and laughs, the _ha-ha_ that escapes his lips sounding too mechanical. “Jk. LOL. Anyway, brb.”

He turns around to walk out the door, but Omi is faster. In three quick strides, he reaches him, grabbing his wrist before he can hold the handle. Omi turns him around, pinning him against the door and places his hand above his head.

Electricity hums in his veins as he grins, watching the way Itaru’s eyes dilate, and they’re close enough that Omi can _feel_ his breath hitch.

“Yeah?” Omi says, a single syllable that comes out almost as a growl.

Itaru’s knees buckle, and Omi has to tighten his grip, barely exerting any effort, to make sure that the man doesn’t fall on the floor. He can make him this weak, huh?

Yeah, he did not imagine earlier at all.

Omi leans forward, bumping their noses together, their lips within a hair’s breadth of touching.

“You don’t offer food to the wolves expecting them to not jump at the chance, Itaru-san.”

**Author's Note:**

> Does the term paper have a symbolic meaning, or is it just an excuse? How many times did I use the word “wolf”? Is this interpretation of the prompt ok? Is Itaru the true snacc? Why can’t we have an Omi in our lives? Can I interest you in recipes? I’ll link some anyway:
> 
> [Proscuitto-wrapped apple bites](https://thenutritionadventure.com/prosciutto-wrapped-apple-bites-2/) ⋆ [Savory madeleines](https://www.huckleberrycollective.com/blog-1/2019/4/1/savory-madelienes) ⋆ [Falafel](https://toriavey.com/toris-kitchen/falafel/) ⋆ [Coffee banana smoothie](https://homemadehooplah.com/breakfast-coffee-banana-smoothie/) ⋆ [Lumpiang shanghai](https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/40351/lumpia-shanghai-version/)  
>    
> twt: [@rinkaisha_](https://twitter.com/rinkaisha_) ก็็็็็็็็็็็็็ʕ•͡ᴥ•ʔ ก้้้้้้้้้้้


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